


Your Hand in Mine

by I_am_a_closet_fanfic_fiend



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Limb loss, Tumblr request, discussions of canon trauma, reader has a prosthetic limb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26488489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_a_closet_fanfic_fiend/pseuds/I_am_a_closet_fanfic_fiend
Summary: Request:  Hi! I love your writing! I have a Bucky x Reader idea, iydm. R’s a powerful Avenger. She has a RIGHT(important it’s her right) metal arm. It’s rose gold when it’s not covered by her skin graft. Bucky is being teased by team&gets upset. He yells no one understands how hard the burden is and storms off. R goes after him to comfort, he turns on her, asking how she’d know? She gently disables her skin graft&shows her rose gold metal arm. Fluff & Angst please!
Relationships: Bucky Barnes/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 84





	Your Hand in Mine

Bucky grunted as he attempted to reach the knot that had formed in his shoulder blade but no matter which way he twisted or turned he couldn’t get the right pressure. He gave up on using his flesh arm and went in search of a tennis ball or even better a softball. 

After finally locating one in the equipment closet, Bucky found the nearest wall and set to work maneuvering the ball into position. He had just found the right spot when you and Sam entered the gym, chattering happily about the movie you’d seen the night before. 

Your animated tone made Bucky smile. 

“Morning, Bucky,” you greeted him cheerfully. 

“Morning, y/n.” 

“Turning into a cat, Barnes?” Sam called when he spotted him shimmying his back against the wall. 

“Can it, birdbrain,” Bucky snapped, smile falling. 

Grumbling about being interrupted when he’d finally started feeling relief, he pulled off the wall and pocketed the ball before storming out of the gym. 

“Sam,” you sighed as you dropped your bag and began stretching. 

“Don’t ‘Sam’ me. Last week he disconnected his arm enough that I yanked it off and hit myself in the face when he helped me up. It’s fair game.” 

“I suppose.” 

Bucky gave as good as he got, and you all knew neither of them meant anything by it. But today you could see he was in pain, but mostly he was frustrated. 

“You can’t treat him with kid gloves,” Sam stated firmly. 

“I know. And I don’t think we should, but this is more than him being grumpy. He’s in real pain.” 

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll lay off until he settles down a bit.” 

“Thank you.” 

The two of you started stretching.

“You know, if you’re really worried about him being sore, you could always offer to give him a massage,” Sam smirked and waggled his eyebrows. 

You rolled your eyes before you actually considered at. 

“Actually. That’s not a bad idea.” 

His eyes widened as he froze.

“Wait. You’re really going to offer to give Barnes a massage.” 

“Not exactly. But I think I have something that could help.”

“What is it?” 

“I’ll tell you later. After I kick your ass.” 

“Oh you are on.”

After a full morning of sparring with Sam and then a round of weight training with Steve you were more than a little sore. You settled yourself in the living room post shower with your foam roller and your trigger point massager. 

“How was your workout?” Bucky asked as he closed his book, watching you roll back and forth to relax your quad. 

“It was good. I think Steve is trying to make sure I can bench press him soon.” 

“I’d pay money to see that.” 

You huffed out a laugh which quickly turned into a groan when you started rolling out your other leg. 

“It would be pretty hilarious,” you agreed wincing slightly when your shoulder twinged. “I’m not far off. I’m at 220 now.” 

“Pretty impressive considering you started lifting like a month ago.” 

“Started lifting again,” you corrected him. “I used to lift when I was in the marines.” 

“I didn’t know you served.” 

“Marine corporal y/n y/l/n at your service.” 

Folding yourself so you sat criss cross, you pulled out the trigger point massager debating which end to use. 

“What’s that?” Bucky asked as he watched you. 

“It helps me get the knots out of the hard to reach places without putting me in more pain. It was a lifesaver when Nat decided I needed to be able to do a full rings performance.”

“Um. Why?” 

“They needed me to go in as a gymnastics coach for the men’s team. Had to prove myself.” 

“Wow. You’re something else.” 

You sighed out your thanks as you hit the knot just the right way to get it to release. Bucky eyed you curiously trying to figure out if it would help him, but also not wanting to ask. You had to bite your tongue to keep from offering it; you knew he was apt to refuse. 

“Y/n, can you come help me with dinner?” Sam called. 

“Coming, Sammy!” 

You started to push yourself to your feet but your arms buckled and you fell back onto your butt with a grunt. 

“Need a hand?” Bucky teased, already on his feet. 

“No,” you tried again with similar results. “Alright, maybe I could use some help,” you finally sigh. 

Chuckling, you grabbed both of Bucky’s hands as he hauled you to your feet. 

“Thanks, Buck,” you breathed, caught off guard by the spark the contact gave you. 

“Any time, doll,” he promised quietly, earning him a bright smile. 

Neither of you had let go yet. 

“Shake a leg, y/n!” 

You rolled your eyes at Sam’s impatience. 

“I’ll see you at dinner, Bucky.” 

“See you.” 

You squeezed his fingers lightly before releasing him. You tucked the foam roller and massager into the corner next to the couch and slipped out of the room, humming as you went. 

“So did he go for it?” Sam asked as he handed you an onion to chop. 

“We’ll see.” 

Bucky stared at his hands for a moment; he’d felt a spark when he touched you. And he was almost certain you did too. It was the most contact the two of you had had since you joined the team six months prior, and it damn near knocked Bucky on his butt. 

Shaking away the distraction he moved to return to his book, but hesitated as he looked at the massager. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt if he tried it. You had always been very generous with things far more valuable and personal than this. Bucky picked up the massager and settling the curve over his shoulder gasped in relief as it hit where he needed it immediately. 

This particular pain had been plaguing him for weeks and to feel it recede was nearly euphoric. 

When you passed by the common room to call everyone for dinner, you noticed Bucky was no longer there and your massager was precisely where you’d left it. Frowning, you gathered everyone you could and asked FRIDAY to call the rest. 

Bucky and Steve were the last to join the table, laughing boisterously as they entered. You could see the lightness in him as he sat next to Natasha, and Sam shot you a knowing smile. And, if you happened to notice a massager of his own arrive in the mail a few days later, you didn’t mention it. If you did everything in your power to have more casual contact with Bucky, then you didn’t mention that either. 

The phantom pain was the worst in Bucky’s opinion. All of the other aches and pains he could at least try to alleviate them. But the phantom pain, he simply had to wait it out. Sometimes he would try to work out until his body was exhausted, but still the pain came. So he turned to distraction.

Which is how he found himself sitting in the common room glaring at the television on his third round of channel surfing through nine thousand eight hundred and twelve stations. This was after nearly an hour of searching Netflix for anything to hold his attention. 

“Hey, Bucky,” you chirped as you breezed into the room. 

He merely grunted out a hello. 

“I made tea. Thought you might want some,” you explained as you raised the deep blue mug that he favored. 

A smidgen of his gruffness slipped away in the face of your thoughtfulness. 

“Thank you.” 

“No problem.” 

You smiled and handed him the mug before preparing to retreat to your room to give him some peace and quiet. 

“Did you – I mean, you’re welcome to sit. I mean stay if you want. I was just going to find something mindless to watch.” 

Your bright smile continued to chip away at the pain induced grumpiness. 

“I’d love to.” 

You grabbed your favorite blanket and wrapped it around you before settling on the couch to his left.

Bucky tensed as you took your seat. His left side was always left open, he felt caged in, waiting for you to remember the horrible atrocities that hand had borne witness to and get as far as way from it as you can. 

But instead you plucked the remote from his metal hand, unthinkingly brushing against it without so much as a flinch. Bucky wasn’t sure what to make of that, but it relaxed him. 

“So what did you wanna watch?” you asked as you blew on your tea and opened the app menu. 

“I dunno. Any suggestions?” 

“Well my favorite brainless show is Galavant.” 

“What’s that about?” 

“It is a comedy musical extravaganza,” you quoted the tag line. “Basically Monthy Python meets Princess Bride meets my high school drama club.” 

Bucky chuckled at the explanation. 

“You were in the drama club?” 

“Yes, I was.” 

“Please tell me your performances are on video.” 

“Even if they were, they would not see the light of day.” 

“Why not? I bet you were adorable.” 

The words slipped out without him thinking about it, and you turned quirking an eyebrow and trying to hide a smile at the blush rising on his cheeks. 

“I just mean, I’m sure you were a great actress. You’re one of the best spies we have.” 

“Believe it or not, that’s a skill not a talent.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’d still love to see that footage.” 

You snorted and rolled your eyes. 

“I bet you would, Barnes. But they are under lock and key.” 

“So they do exist!” 

“Let’s just watch Galavant?” 

Bucky yielded with a triumphant smile. 

“Let’s give it a shot. It certainly sounds interesting.” 

“Yay.” 

Bucky was skeptical throughout the first couple of episodes. 

“It gets better,” you promised ardently when you glanced over after the third episode. 

“I’m sure it does,” he hummed, sipping on his tea to hide his smile. “This is really good. What kind is it?” 

“It’s a mix of chamomile, lavender, a little lemon, and a touch of peppermint. It’s my favorite. Always helps relax me after missions.” 

Between the tea and your enthusiastic sing along during the first season, Bucky’s focus was slowly diverted from the lingering ache in his arm. 

When you had started yawning, you readjusted your blanket and snuggled into his side unthinkingly. You had fallen asleep shortly after. He left his arm along the back of the couch, and angled his body slightly so your head rested on his chest instead of the hard metal of his shoulder joint. He turned off the TV, content to watch you as you slept. Soon though your deep even breaths soothed him and he fell asleep as well. 

The first thing Bucky became aware of as he woke up was a weight on his chest. Your head was pillowed just above his heart and you were sound asleep. The second thing he noticed, but couldn’t quite believe, was that your right hand was interlaced with his left and resting on your stomach. 

You were completely at peace and he had no idea what to do, so he stayed still watching you. Your other thumb stroked lightly along his forearm as you cuddled the metal like a teddy bear. Bucky hadn’t experienced this much tenderness since before the war. He hadn’t experienced this much casual affection ever. 

He watched as your fingers flexed ever so slightly between his. If he closed his eyes he could feel warmth and the softness of your touch. And for the first time since he fell from the train, he wished a phantom feeling would last forever. 

Over the next few weeks you always seemed to manage to brush up against his metal arm in some way – passing food at dinner, or reaching for the elevator button at the same time. Dozens of times. And each time Bucky’s heart would beat just a little bit faster. 

But then a mission went wrong. You’d been posing as a married couple vacationing in the Cayman Islands as you tried to get close to the banker for a number of the major criminal syndicates around the world. 

Pretending to be in love with Bucky Barnes was easy when you were halfway to actually being in love with him. You were close to the end of the mission when there was a problem and you had to drop Bucky’s hand and distance yourself from him. It brought enough attention that you got made. And soon you were fighting for your life. 

It had been a week since the mission and Bucky hadn’t spoken a word to you since debrief. Today was the first time you saw him for more than three minutes as he sat on the floor fiddling with the wiring in his wrist while his arm kit lay open in front of him on the coffee table as you, Steve, Sam, and Clint were playing gin. 

Steve was watching you sneak glances at Bucky. You had tried to find him to apologize, but when Bucky Barnes didn’t want to be found. He wasn’t. 

“Gin!” You announced happily.

“Again?” Sam groaned. 

“Tally up, boys.” 

“Seventy-five,” Clint grimaced before tossing his cards on the table and turning his attention to Bucky, concerned by the odd sparks coming from his arm.

“Whatcha up to, terminator?” 

“My arm hasn’t been working right since I got shocked on that last mission,” he replied without looking up. 

“What do you mean not working?” Sam asked.

“Can’t really control it. My touch is too light or too harsh. I can’t regulate it.” 

“That didn’t happen last time you got hit,” Sam observed. 

“Yeah, but last time I wasn’t shoved into a lake while being electrocuted.” 

The younger man hummed, dipping his head in acknowledgment. You grimaced knowing it was your fault he got pushed in the lake. 

“Should we call Shuri?” Steve worried. 

“It’s fine. I’m sure I can fix it.” 

“It’s been a few days now.” 

“Drop it, Steve,” Bucky nearly growled. 

“Did you try turning off and back on again?” Clint offered before he and Sam broke out into a fit of laughter. 

“Maybe you should stick it in some rice.” 

“Enough,” Steve warned as Bucky gathered his things and headed for the door. 

“Come on, Barnes, we’re only joking.”

“It’s not a joke! Just leave me alone. None of you know what it’s like living with this… this thing every day,” Bucky shouted as he rushed out of the room.

Steve made to go after him but you stopped him, with a gentle hand to his chest. 

“I’ll go.” 

“Y/n.” 

“Steve, it’s time,” you told him pointedly. 

Narrowing his eyes, Steve nodded after a moment of internal debate. 

“Your choice.” 

Offering him a reassuring smile, you turned towards the elevator. 

“Y/n,” Clint murmured, making you pause. “Tell Barnes we’re sorry.” 

“We didn’t realize it was an over the line day.” 

“I’ll tell him,” you agreed. 

You hurried towards the elevator, leaving the apologetic superheroes behind.

“Seventh floor please, FRIDAY.” 

“Yes, Agent Y/l/n.” 

Stepping out onto Steve and Bucky’s floor, you took a deep breath before knocking on the door. 

“Go away!” He shouted from deep within the room. 

“Bucky, it’s me. Please can I come in?” 

“Just leave me alone, doll,” he insisted but you could tell he was just behind the door this time. 

“Bucky, please. I just want to help.” 

Silence. 

But you weren’t ready to give up yet, so you leaned against his door. 

He only lasted a couple of minutes before unlocking the door and allowing you in. His head hung low as you stepped past him and he recoiled when you reached to comfort him so you let your hand drop. 

“Can I take a look? I think I can help.” 

“I tried all of the normal fixes, and last time I checked you weren’t a biomechanical engineer so I’m not really sure how you can help,” he explained, trying to hustle you out the door. 

You tried not to be annoyed by his dismissiveness, but it ruffled you nonetheless. If only he knew. 

“I may not be an engineer but I have a lot of experience with prosthetics. I understand-“ 

“Oh really?” he snapped, frustration getting the better of him. “What the hell do you understand? Do you understand the phantom pain and the way my skin feels like it’s still ripping apart? Do you know how it feels when you have a part of you that you can’t control sometimes? Do you understand how much I wish I didn’t have to be afraid of touching someone with this thing? No? Then just leave me alone,” he growled, though the despair cut through the bite. 

“Bucky.” 

“Please, doll. Just go.” 

His head hung low and his tone was utterly defeated. 

“Bucky, I do understand you. I understand all of those things,” you murmured. 

“How could you possibly?” 

There was an almost hopeful undercurrent to the disbelieving question as his eyes met yours. 

“Because they happen to me too,” you sighed softly as you extended your right arm in front of you, tapping your pulse point twice to disable the holograft. 

Bucky’s eyes widened as the graft retracted into a thin bracelet of rose gold, which matched your newly revealed arm.

“Wha-, how? When?” he stumbled over the questions as he examined your arm. 

“I was stationed at a base hospital. There was an accident with the autoclave they used to sterilize the instruments. The steel door blew off and pinned me to the ground, which I probably would have gotten out of, but the impact sent a ton of heavy equipment piling on top of me. By the time they got me out, the damage was done and they had to amputate.” 

“That’s… I had no idea.” 

“Most people don’t,” you agreed quietly, averting your eyes and resisting the urge to hide your arm behind your back. 

“Who does know?” 

“Natasha who recruited me. Tony who built my arm and the holograft. And Steve because it glitched out on a mission and he paid the price. Like you almost did.” 

“What?” he asked, his brows furrowing. 

You finally looked at him. 

“When we were undercover last week and I yanked away, it was because my arm was glitching and I could control my fine motor skills anymore. The last time it happened to Steve I actually managed to fracture a few of his bones. I forgot that you wouldn’t have the same problem.” 

“So I didn’t hurt you?” 

His body was tense as he waited for your answer. 

“Oh no. Of course not.”

You heart sank to the floor as he shoulders slumped in relief. 

“Bucky, is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” you asked softly. 

He nodded, meeting your gaze through his lashes. 

“I thought I hurt you and that’s why you pulled away.” 

You were shaking your head before he could finish his sentence. 

“No. No. Oh I’m so sorry you felt that way. I didn’t want to hurt you. When it all went to shit, I regretted not telling you so much.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Honestly? Because I didn’t think you’d take me coming up to you and saying ‘hey, I’ve got a metal arm too let’s be friends’ as a good first impression.“

Bucky chuckled at the mental image you conjured eyes crinkling as they found yours. 

“It certainly would have been memorable. But I suppose that’s fair.” 

You hummed softly as you waited for his next move.

“So all of the things you did for me… the massager, the tea, the weirdass show?” 

“All things that worked for me. And Galavant is a treasure,” she added as an afterthought. 

Pursing his lips deepened his frown. 

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay, Bucky. You didn’t know.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” he argued. “I never should have yelled at you or taken my frustrations out on you. Please accept my apology.”

His oceanic eyes implored you. 

“Of course. It’s all forgotten.” 

“Thank you. I owe the guys an apology for today.” 

“They understand,” you assured him. “They said their sorry.” 

“Still, I should-“ 

He turned towards the door but you quickly moved in front of him. 

“Will you sit your butt down.” 

Bucky was shocked by the authority in your tone and immediately complied without thinking, plopping down on the nearest surface which happened to be the bed. 

“Now, can I please look at your arm?” you asked softly. 

If he still truly didn’t want your help you would back off. 

Bucky nodded his assent, swallowing harshly. 

“Where’s your kit?” 

“On the desk.” 

Grabbing the small screwdriver and a set of tweezers from the worn leather pouch, you sat on the bed next to him and got to work.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure,” you mumbled as you focused on tracing the currents in his arm. 

“Why do you always wear the skin graft?” 

You were quiet as you thought about your answer. 

“From a tactical standpoint, I’d stick out like a sore thumb. So it’s a necessity on missions.” 

“But around the team?” 

“I wanted one less thing for them to make assumptions about when I joined I guess.” 

Before Bucky could ask what you meant, you continued on. 

“After the accident, things were hard. It was a major loss, and I wasn’t quite sure how to cope. I didn’t think my life could ever be normal again. But my rehab team were great and they’ve made such amazing advances in prosthetics that life was different but it was okay. I found a new normal, and I could live my life the way I wanted to for the most part. But other people when they met me couldn’t see that. It was like I was nothing more than my arm and my accident. So when Natasha recruited me and Tony offered me the holograft I took it.”

“A chance at normal.” 

“Exactly. Fortunately, I’m not known for my metal arm so no one questioned it.” 

You offered him a sympathetic smile, knowing he would likely never have the luxury of anonymity. Baseball caps and sunglasses weren’t as good of a disguise as some super soldiers might think. 

“This is true. Do you hate it?” Bucky almost whispered and you froze. 

The super soldier’s eyes darted to yours when you didn’t speak and your hands stilled. 

“I did. For a long time. I’ve known a lot of friends who’ve lost limbs, lost lives, because of i.e.d.’s and landmines, so honestly I did my two tours expecting to not come home in one piece. The fact that it was a random accident in a low risk assignment, made me feel like I’d swum across an entire ocean just to drown in a wave pool. I hated that it made me feel weak. But over time, it became a part of my life. And after attending too many funerals my life was more than enough to be thankful for. And now, I get to use my arm to help people. So no, I don’t hate it. Not anymore.” 

Bucky was quiet as he observed you, trying to sort out all of the new information. You returned your attention to his arm, carefully ferreting out the problem. 

“Aha! Gotcha. Little piece of… there.” 

You stripped out a bit of exposed wiring and tightened a bolt and eighth of an inch. 

“That should do it,” you announced. “How does it feel?” 

Bucky swung his arm in a wide circle and flexed his fingers. 

“Much better. What was wrong?” 

“The shock fried on of the connections that translates the electrical impulses from your nerves. It made it hypersensitive.” 

“Thank you, doll.” 

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help.” 

You returned the tools to his kit, taking your time to precisely arrange them so you could try to think of what to say next. 

“How are your tactile sensations?” You asked when you sat down on the bed again. 

“They feel okay, but I should probably test it to see. Make sure it works on precious things.”

“Got anything precious nearby?” 

“Yeah.” 

Bucky cautiously raised his hand toward you. 

“May I?” 

You nodded, holding your breath. 

The silver hand continued its path to your cheek, cradling your face tenderly as you leaned into his touch. 

“You are beautiful. And I have to thank you for being there in quiet ways when I wasn’t ready to ask for help.” 

“You’re welcome. I hope you know how much we all care about you. I hope you know how much I care about you.” 

“I do.” 

Slowly pulling away from your cheek, you pouted until Bucky threaded his silver fingers through your rose gold ones as he lifted your right hand. Admiring the delicate craftsmanship and the way it caught the light, he gently turned it so he could press a kiss to your knuckles. 

You gasped at the sensation. The holograft, much like a glove, dulled your sense of touch. The feeling of his lips against your hand was overwhelming. 

“This feels…” you breathed unable to find the words. 

“Right,” Bucky supplied. “It feels right.” 

You nodded, swiping at tears. 

“Like it’s the way it’s meant to be. Your hand in mine,” you mused quietly. 

Bucky’s answering smile was brilliant as he squeezed your fingers. 

“That’s because it is.” 


End file.
